No Pain No Gain
by quinn the finn
Summary: Puck supposes he should've expected it. Anything having to do with the Scarlet Hand is bound to end badly. But when he and Sabrina go to dismantle one of the rising organization's bases, things get a bit exciting. Exciting meaning Puck ends up in a hospital bed with a) a coma he can't seem to shake, b) the desire for real food, and c) the overwhelming urge to kiss Sabrina.
1. The Day Puck's Life Explodes

**so, first timer in fanfiction here. persuaded by the lovely cLeoo and anniepear to actually do something with the horde of writing on my laptop.**

 **hopefully this works out better than my love life…**

 **moving on, here is my go at a sisters grimm story – unlike my lying friends, I actually will update consistently, because I already have these chapters all written down and just need to edit them up a bit before posting.**

 **im the overachiever of the group obviously.**

 **but enough about me being the superior fanfiction writer to my two friends (which yeah, I am (just kidding they're amazing)). let's just concentrate on the story, shall we?**

 **disclaimer: yeah, it's pretty obvious, I'm not micheal buckley - is that even how you spell micheal?**

 **also, this fic is rated T for, um, language definitely, as well as stressful moments and medical things that i guess could be seen as violent to some people. so dont read if that stuff makes you uncomfortable.**

* * *

 **Ch.1: The Day Puck's Life Explodes**

"Well that was fun."

Sabrina rolls her eyes at him, which Puck knew would be her reaction to his comment, but he has a reputation as Sabrina's number one source of annoyance to keep up, and he's not going to do it by taking near-death scenarios seriously.

"I don't know if I'd classify almost getting killed as fun," she returns easily. There are a few stray strands of blonde hair dangling in front of her eyes, no doubt pulled out of her ponytail in the chaos of the past few minutes. She blows them out of the way, but they fall right back into place. Part of Puck is sappy enough to want to tuck them behind her ear.

The other part of him is well aware that Sabrina would punch him for doing something so stupid and that he is above such things as _feelings_ and _showing them_. So instead, he makes another comment that is sure to earn him a glare.

They don't call him a masochist for nothing.

"That's your problem. Life's all about finding joy in the simple things," he says.

Sure enough, Sabrina shoots him an annoyed look. "Like how much I want to throw you out of this building?"

He smiles. "Exactly."

Sabrina intensifies her glare by pursing her lips together before she just lets out this long sigh, like it takes all of her patience to even be in the same room as Puck.

"Sometimes I actually _do_ want to throw you out of a window, you know," she says.

Puck does know. It's fairly obvious that, even without trying, he is an object of nothing but irritation in Sabrina's life. "No, I didn't."

She crosses her arms and gives him a doubtful look, but her lips are twitching up in a slight grin. "Then I hate to say it, but you're more of an idiot than I thought."

He nods. "Can't say I'm surprised."

Then she's actually grinning, teeth and everything, and her eyes crinkle up like they always do and Puck has to try his hardest not to make any sort of reaction that would let her know how much he's affected by something so simple. They're quiet for a bit, and he's thinking of saying something stupid, just to see if it'll make her smile too, but before he can she's clicking the small band on her wrist, courtesy of Uncle Jake.

"Mission accomplished. All of the Everafters here are currently unconscious and ready for questioning. We didn't get their new Master, but I'm sure one of them will fess up."

"Good job. Are you both alright?" Veronica's voice answers. Puck grew up surrounded by magic, so the ability to communicate through the simple wrist-band is not one that is altogether impressive to him. If anything, it reminds him more of technology than magic – couldn't they just use walkie-talkie's as opposed to rare, magical communication bracelets?

The only thing really impressive in this situation is Veronica's ability to still ask that with so much worry in her voice after Sabrina and Puck's umpteenth time of executing missions like this. Ever since the Everafters got let out of their dome, the Grimms put it upon themselves to keep the peace between the sometimes irritable Everafters and the ever-oblivious humans. Puck and Sabrina had been labeled too-young to do anything intense at first, but four years later and the Grimms had them pegged as good fighting material. Now, they got tasked with most of the hands-on peace keeping. They'd been doing it for a year now, but only recently had things gotten really serious with the rumors of a new Scarlet Hand rising. The mission they just completed was actually taking out one of the so-called "bases" of the organization. If a worn-down building could count as a base, and if a group of violent radicals could be called an organization.

Either way, they had accomplished their goal with flying colors, besides that there hadn't been any signs of the whispered about Master of this new Scarlet Hand. Puck is certain that he can get one of the Everafters currently scattered unconscious throughout the building to talk though.

"We're all good here," Sabrina answers, a bit of the tension in her shoulders sagging away as her mother lets out a breath of relief. Puck, already bored, starts walking around the room they're in, the topmost one of the building. Some of the furniture is knocked over, and there is a desk in the center of the room that has all its drawers open and empty.

Puck would bet his entire meager allowance that this was where the Master worked. He (or she, for that matter) was probably here only minutes ago, and grabbed all his important stuff before fleeing the scene.

Puck balls his fists together at his sides. They had been so close. There probably wouldn't be another opportunity like this for a while now, and when there was, the Everafters would no doubt be more careful because of what happened today.

Out of frustration, Puck kicks at one of the still standing pieces of furniture in the room, a tall cabinet of sorts. It falls over much more easily than he anticipated, crashing to the ground with the sound of breaking wood. Sabrina whips around, and Puck gives her his most winning smile.

"Just checking for booby traps," he says. She raises one eyebrow before going back to the conversation with her mom, something about "we'll be back soon" and "wish we would've got him" and "bring them in for questioning." Puck just watches her for a bit. It's something he's been doing a lot recently, much to his annoyance. Honestly, how obvious is he going to make this? But it's kind of hard not to. She's dressed in their standard outfit, a black getup that looks right out of a spy movie, and it's form fitting in a way that just isn't fair to Puck. Her ponytail is sagging against her neck, those few pale blonde strands dancing in front of her eyes. There's some dust and grime smudged on her face, and she's still sweating from the exertion of their fight, droplets of perspiration making her skin slick and shiny.

Puck thinks that in that moment, she may be she the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. It's a thought he tries to banish, because he got punched in the stomach that one time he _did_ try something (even if it was five years ago), but it's kind of hard when she's standing there in all her ridiculous beauty and kick-ass-ness.

So instead, he just tries not to stare and promises he'll sort through his confusing feelings once they get home. She catches him looking and crinkles her eyebrows together in a question, hand still hovering beside her face as she listens to her mom talk about how they'll get him next time and how she's proud of Sabrina and all the customary motherly pride. Puck just shakes his head and turns around, acting like he actually is checking for booby traps or something.

That's when he sees it. At the base of the wall, previously covered up by the cabinet he'd tipped over – a large metal cylinder bolted onto the floorboard, and on top, a tablet with colorful wires running out of it attaching to both ends of the cylinder. And, most importantly it seemed, the big red numbers counting down on the tablet's screen. Puck's watched enough action movies to know what this is. His insides go cold and, with her back to him, Sabrina doesn't see a thing. The numbers reach 0:01.

Puck moves before his thoughts have even fully formed, shouting out a "get down!" and throwing himself in Sabrina's general direction. She doesn't even have time to look surprised, to turn around, before Puck is wrapping himself around her, pressing his body full-flush against hers and throwing them both as far from the bomb as possible and-

The world explodes. The noise is deafening, a roar that swallows up everything else, and there is heat licking Puck's back, heat and pain and the white hot color that has engulfed what was previously the room. It's earth-shaking, ear-splitting, shattering. Everything is fire and agony and the world boils around him, searing his blood and his body as if to leave no trace of him behind. He feels tears burning down his cheeks, and he tries to scream but the air in his lungs, in the entire room, has boiled too and there's nothing he can do with it. It hurts, _holy shit_ does it hurt, more than anything he's felt before, hurts and hurts and _hurts_ -

His arms are still around Sabrina, and he feels her curled tight against his chest, and they're falling and crashing when suddenly Puck's head hits against something too hard, too sharp, and in that moment nothing hurts anymore.

Everything fades into black.

*.*.*

The first thing that registers is what Puck assumes is light. It's disorienting at first, because he forgot what it was to see light, to actually have any means to see _anything_ for that matter. But after an indeterminable amount of time passes, he decides that yeah, light's the only good explanation for the muted glow behind his closed eyelids.

For a few moments, it doesn't make sense. The light, the confusion, the thick haze surrounding his mind; and then it all comes back to him.

Scarlet Hand.

The bomb.

 _Sabrina_.

He goes to open his eyes as the sudden panic flares up inside him, only to find that he can't. Which is honestly not reassuring. He tries to, really does, but as hard as he strains nothing seems to happen.

Fucking useless he's become.

But slowly, as his mind gradually begins to fit together the pieces, he becomes aware of other things. The sound of various machines beeping. The sharp scent of antiseptic hovering around him. A thin blanket draped across his arms, and yes, he's slowly starting to feel the rest of his body as well. But with that comes the pain. It's not too bad, not like before, just a dull ache that he has a hunch would be much worse if he weren't in his current state. It's stronger in certain places – his legs, arms, his head – but not so bad that he can't focus on anything else, like the thin sting of something sharp – needles? – stuck in the back of his hands, the crook of his elbows, and his left wrist, or the heavy feeling of bandage wrapped over basically everything.

It's then that he realizes with this crawling feeling of horror that there's a tube inserted into his mouth, hard plastic that – _shit_ – goes way further than anything solid ever should. He feels himself beginning to panic with the need to breathe, and fuck this thing is gagging him and choking him and why the _hell_ is it here in the first place when – oh. He feels the gentle, rhythmic rise of his ribcage, perfectly in time with the whooshing, puffing sound he hears coming from the general direction of the rest of the machines. It takes him a while to grasp the concept of letting a tube breathe for him, and it's not altogether something he finds he enjoys, rather uncomfortable and intrusive and a bit fucked up.

It's then that he tries to open his eyes again, because he really wants to know what the hell is going on here and as helpful as touch and smell and all of that shit is, sight is a really big factor in knowing if Sabrina is here as well, but it's to no avail. He attempts moving other parts of his body, maybe just stirring a bit in what he assumes is a hospital bed, or just twitching one of his fingers, but nothing happens.

Which doesn't entirely surprise him, but isn't welcome news either. Instead, he's stuck lying in the bed, trying not to get too irritated at the fact that he can feel his hands resting on his chest but can't do anything to move either.

So instead, he thinks. _Where am I? What's going on? What happened? Is Sabrina ok?_ His brain pushes and strains to make up for the lack of his body being able to, and that's all he can do, lay there and think and let the breathing tube do what his lungs should be doing.

He doesn't know how much time has passed, but suddenly, there's the sound of a door opening and the clink of footsteps meaning someone is walking in. Normally his body would tense up, but instead it just sits there, so he lets his mind do all the tensing instead. He's just starting to think that maybe this is just some random nurse when he hears a sigh and yep, that's Veronica all right.

The two are silent for a bit, before Veronica sighs again. "Oh _Puck_."

There's this choked up sadness in her voice that Puck can't imagine is there because of _him_ – unless it is, which is as shocking as it is confusing.

And somehow, touching.

The door opens again, and there is another set of footsteps, these slower and more hesitant.

"Daphne," Veronica says. "Are you ok?"

There is no response, so Puck assumes she either nodded or shook her head. See, this is the sort of stuff he misses without control of certain things like his _fucking eyeballs_.

"I just wanna know if he'llbe ok," a voice that is undeniably Daphne's responds. It's softer than usual, and Puck can't help but feel bad for making it that way. "What even happened?"

"Well, judging by what managed to transmit through Sabrina's band…"

There is a clicking sound and the shuffle of Daphne walking closer before what he recognizes as Sabrina's voice fills the room. He has a momentary second of relief so strong he's sure his body will react _somehow_ to it, because _fucking Jesus Sabrina's alright_. His body doesn't move though. And a second later, he realizes the voice is just a playback of the conversation between Sabrina and Veronica… yesterday? Two days ago? Puck has no idea how much time has passed, and it's probably that that kills him the most.

"Good job. Are you both alright?" a scratchy version of Veronica's voice says.

"We're all good here," Sabrina's equally as metallic voice responds. There's a bit more talking, nothing Puck hasn't heard before, and then he's listening to himself shriek " _get down_!" and the tinny but still cataclysmic roar of the explosion consuming everything before the recording descends into static.

"A bomb?" Daphne asks.

"Something of the sorts, I'm assuming. And judging by what we hear through just a simple recording device… a big one at that. They're lucky to be alive."

Puck already knows about the bomb and how big it is, but it's the last part that he latches onto. _They're_. Meaning multiple people. Meaning Sabrina's alive. His mind begins to spin as the sentence shoots through it in every variation possible: Sabrina's ok, Sabrina's safe, Sabrina's gonna live.

"Throwing himself on top of 'Brina though… jeez," Veronica adds. "I'm grateful of course, but I don't know what he was thinking, that crazy son of a…"

Veronica trails off, no doubt for Daphne's sake, but Puck gets the general gist of the comment.

 _Yeah, well, fuck you very much, Veronica._

"He was just trying to save her," Daphne says, and he really loves that girl, always there to defend him.

"Yeah, by throwing his own life to the wind," Veronica returns. "It's like he has no self-preservation instincts whatsoever."

Puck can't help but feel like the conversation is about to turn to berating his life choices, but it's not like he can do anything about it, so he just sits there pathetically and mentally gets himself comfortable for a talk that could last for a while when the door opens, effectively cutting off all talking and saving his ass.

This time, it's not footsteps but the unmistakable squeak of wheels that enters the room. There is a palpable shift in the atmosphere – Puck doesn't have to be completely, well, _alive_ to feel it.

"Sabrina," Veronica says, her voice an equal mix of surprise and disapproval, "you shouldn't be out of your room."

"Yeah, well, I am," is the snapped reply, and shit is she feeling a little feistier than usual. None of the others respond, besides who he assumes is Daphne making this little whimper-y noise, and the wheeling sound comes closer, accompanied with the sharp breathing of someone obviously in some serious pain.

The noise hurts some part of him, or maybe that's just the pain from everything else, but either way, he doesn't like it. He was supposed to save her, for fuck's sake. Can't even do that right either, it seems.

At least she's alive though. It could've been worse.

"How is he?" Sabrina asks, voice much closer than it was seconds ago.

"Sabrina," Veronica says, voice low and cautious with an obvious warning.

Sabrina either doesn't pick up on it or doesn't care, because she only wheels a bit closer and says again, with a tone that brooks no argument, "How is he?"

There's this tense silence for a few long moments, filled only with the continuing whir and beep of machines, and Puck thinks for a second Sabrina's mom is going to banish her back to her room, but then Veronica's sighing (again) and there is the rustling of papers from above him and then, she's talking.

"Well, the burns are pretty severe, as are the other physical injuries, but my – _our_ – main concern is this."

The annoying part is, Puck can only hear the rustling of the document being passed from Veronica to Sabrina. So he doesn't know what "this" is. Judging by the monumental silence, it's not good though.

"What do they mean?" Sabrina's asking, and her voice is quiet where it once was firm.

"The CTs show considerable swelling in parts of the brain, here and here," Veronica says. "With the sound of that bomb, I'm actually surprised it's not more than that. We've managed to relieve some of the pressure, but there's most likely been some degree of brain trauma inflicted already."

For a second, Puck's confused about how Veronica seems to know all of this fancy doctor stuff before he remembers that she graduated in the medical field and has been working as the Grimms' personal doctor for a while now. The fact that he couldn't remember that off the bat is a little bit concerning, but he blames the drugs no doubt in his system, not the speculated brain trauma.

"But he will get better, right?" Sabrina asks.

Veronica doesn't say anything at first, which doesn't give Puck a very good feeling at all. When she does speak, she sounds more sorry than Puck's ever heard her.

"Sabrina, I don't want to have to make assumptions based on-"

"I want to know."

There is more silence, and Puck can practically feel the stare down happening above his useless body.

" _Please_ ," Sabrina says, and her voice isn't supposed to sound like that – tired and afraid and broken.

Veronica sighs for the third time and answers carefully. "He might recover. He might not. It's hard to say at this point, but I've seen people recover from worse. Puck's young and healthy, but even if he _does_ wake up there may be significant impairment of cognitive function, among other things."

The fuck? Puck can cognate just fine, thanks, traumatic brain injury or no. If he could just open his eyes and give them all one of his signature eye rolls than Veronica would stop spouting this nonsense and see how very wrong she is.

But as it stands, Puck can't even raise an eyebrow.

"I did this," Sabrina all but whispers. Her voice sounds dead, which is scary, because Puck worked so hard for the exact opposite. "This is all my fault."

"You can't think like that, 'Brina," Veronica says immediately, voice hard. "Don't do that to yourself."

"I should've seen the bomb, should've been smarter than to just sit there and assume we were ok. I should've done something before it was too late."

"Sabrina, listen. Puck stumbled upon it completely by chance. You can't blame yourself."

Which, Puck agrees, is true. If he hadn't kicked that cabinet, Sabrina would be lying beside him too right now, with all sorts of wires and tubes coming out of her as well. And while he can totally hang with the imagery of lying next to Sabrina, the very idea of her in his place makes him that much more happy he did what he did.

Because the thought of Sabrina hurt is just complete and utter bullshit, at least as long as he can help it. He knows she wouldn't approve, would give him one of her 'I can take care of myself, thanks' looks, but still. Puck's always been rather good when it comes to caring about others more than himself.

"But I should've," Sabrina says, and her voice is a weak tremble. Veronica apparently has no words for that, and neither of them speak again. There's the squeaking sound of Sabrina rolling herself away and Daphne's voice close behind, offering to help her back to her room.

Veronica sighs (she really needs to stop with that) and Puck can't help but think that he needs to have a serious talk with Sabrina when he wakes up.

When. Not if.

 _Fuck if_.

* * *

 **well that was that! as you can see this story has a pretty laid out plotline (puck in coma sabrina not in coma medical shit etc etc), but i'm gonna throw in some twists and turns and everything to keep things exciting.**

 **cheeky, i know.**

 **but seriously. brace yourself for lots of puck whump and angst and pining over sabrina, as well as maybe some fluff and romance and stuff. you're probably wondering how this is all gonna happen while puck's in a coma. oh, you just wait and see.**

 **you just wait and see.**

 **i hope you guys enjoyed that, please review if you did and tell me what you liked, what you hated, what ways you want to kill me now that ive actually posted that horrible excuse for an opening chapter on the internet...**

 ***hides in corner***

 **see you guys next week for chapter two!**

 **-quinn the finn**


	2. Of Flowers and Skull Removal

**and I am back, just as I promised (see? I am the best out of us three, aren't I?)**

 **also, I think im gonna do a quick response to all of you guys' reviews because hoLY MOTHER OF PEARL, everyone's reaction to this story was so nice and so much better than I expected and just wow. you people made my day, one hundred percent made it.**

...

 **LavenderMoonRose: thank you friend, you're bloody nice! (on a sidenote, are you english? no one in america says bloody…)**

 **Guest: creative name my friend. also, you're looking pretty good too (I hate myself)**

 **Annie Carter: YOU ARE SO NICE – I ACTUALLY TOOK A PICTURE OF YOUR REVIEW AND SENT IT TO BOTH ANNIEPEAR AND CLEOO AND THEY ARE SORTA IN LOVE WITH YOU NOW. and no, we have no other writing friends to dig up… or do we?**

 **susiequeen300: I know, I decided to actually finish this thing before posting it, which was a surprise for someone as impulsive as me, but I don't like as a reader getting left hanging either (cough cough both anniepear and cLeoo cough cough). and thanks, you're extremely adorable too!**

 **Guest: "Pick" cracks me up too (just kidding I know you were talking about Puck – and thanks, writing his kind of humor is so fun)**

 **iizninja: wow. your review was beautiful. there is honestly nothing I like more than long and thoughtful reviews. and I know, why no whump in this fandom? well, like that saying goes, I will be the change I want to see in the world (dramatic, I know). thanks so much for the compliments too friend, I'm trying my hardest to make this good. oh, and by the way, feel free to "wax poetic" on every part of my story – I love to hear peoples' opinions and what they enjoyed!**

 **ThePress: oh just you wait, the puckabrina will be amped up a lot as the story progresses.**

 **OakeX: GOSH YOUR KINDNESS IS LITERALLY KILLING US! cLeoo and anniepear are actually both at my house as I'm writing this and they're like screaming with happiness and want you to know how sweet you are and how we all appreciate comments like this so much – it pays off for our hard work. and if you actually do want advice on how to write action (which is such a complement wow you're seriously my favorite) then feel free to PM me and we can talk!**

 **JudgmentalPraise: OK IM NOT THAT GOOD I HIGHLY DOUBT ANY NEWS PEOPLE WOULD EVEN LOOK AT ME BUT JESUS CHRIST THIS REVIEW IS SO NICE IM LIKE SMILING SO BIG RIGHT NOW. (and pssh, don't "sadly I'm not you" me, you're amazing and I love you and don't worry, I'll update fast!)**

 **Lovetheday: Ah yes, poor Puck and his self-pitying love. and yeah, I tried hard not to make them too ooc because they're just older, not different people, you know? and I don't think ive ever heard the term "crappily good", so thanks for that! (also my personal journal is crazy ADHD so good luck)**

 **DelusionalApple: You're nice. Really, you are. And look, I did update fast!**

 **Amy Grimm: I like you a lot and you're completely and totally coolio!**

...

 **ok, that's that. do you guys like me responding to the reviews, because I personally enjoy it… if it takes up too much space though let me know and I'll consider cutting it out (but I love responding because the reviews are so nice and all deserve a response you all rock)**

 **now, for chapter two!**

* * *

 **Ch.2: Of Flowers and Skull Removal**

The bad thing about being in a coma and _knowing_ he's in a coma, Puck realizes, is the boredom. See, it's not quite as painful as he'd imagine, and what pain there is – a dull throbbing in his skull that won't go away – he quickly gets used to. Puck even realizes that he can grow to handle the weird medical shit too, like the talks from unknown voices above him centered around "pressure in his skull" and "traumatic brain injury" and "decompressive craniectomy" – whatever the hell that is. Although the worst part of his day hands down has to be when foreign hands grab his head and angle it just perfectly so that they can clean out the tube in his throat.

Puck never thought he'd have to get familiar with the feeling of having his lungs being vacuumed out with what feels like a giant straw – not to mention his coma doesn't even give him the good graces to cough through the entire suckish process. But here he is, scratching another one off the bucket list.

But all that aside, it really is the boredom that gets to Puck. Because not being able to control his body, not being able to do anything besides sit there and think and listen to his heart monitor and will it to speed up – it never does – is quickly itching away at his brain. He's always been one to crave stimulation. And trust him, laying immobile and blind on a bed for God knows how long is in no way, shape, or form anywhere _close_ to stimulation.

The weird part is, though, he's never lonely, not really. People are constantly in and out of whatever room he's situated in – judging by the fact that Veronica is almost always with them and speaking with her authoritative tone, he must be in the medical wing of HQ. (When the Grimms' little "let's keep the Everafters and humans in balance" plan fell on others' ears, people enthusiastically hopped on the bandwagon, and soon enough it wasn't just the Grimms and Puck against the world, but a whole group of people bent on keeping the peace. An organization of their own, sort of. Like the anti-Scarlet Hand. And with it came a base, which quickly evolved and grew into something nice enough to have almost everything – including a medical wing.)

But anyway (ok Puck, back to the point – this whole cognitive impairment thing is really doing a number on his ADHD), being situated in a place surrounded by people he knows – or at least people who know _him_ , because not to brag or anything, but it's hard to be part of the group and not know who Puck is – means he's rarely alone. Mostly it's doctors coming in and out, adjusting machines and checking tubes and murmuring things above him that he doesn't understand or try to. And yeah, Veronica is with them usually, because although she's not CMO or anything, she's pretty damn important and seems to understand the whole process he's going through anyway.

He still hasn't forgiven her for the "crazy son of a bitch" comment earlier though.

It's only been a few days, – he thinks – but he's already gotten visits from some others too. Daphne has been in the room twice now, not counting that time she was there when he initially "woke up". The first time she brought flowers, not that Puck could see them, but she kept going on and on to him about how beautiful they were and how even if the doctors were allergic to pollen, they couldn't take them down because yes, they were _that_ beautiful.

Puck highly doubts it, to be honest, but he can't see, so he takes Daphne's word for it.

The second time she doesn't bring anything, just sits by his side and talks. She talks about how the others are doing, about how Granny Relda's flying in from her new home in Florida to see him, about how Henry is working his balls off – yes, she actually says that, where did his innocent little Daphne go? – to try and shut down the Scarlet Hand.

But what really catches his attention is when the conversations shifts to Sabrina.

"She's doing alright, better for sure," Daphne says in a not quite exasperated, but a little bit fond of a tone. "Of course, she's already up and about, walking around even though we tell her _constantly_ to stay in her bed so healing will take less time."

Puck would grin if he could. That sounds just like the Sabrina they all know and love.

Or rather, the Sabrina they all at least know and he loves way too much.

"She's really taking the whole, you know, _you_ situation pretty hard. Feels guilty about it. She shouldn't, of course, it was your decision to throw yourself on top of her like you did. But still, she does."

A part of Puck sinks down at that particular news. He was hoping Sabrina would ease out of the guilt quickly enough and realize yeah, Puck actually does care enough to save her life. But this _is_ Sabrina, who just so happens to feel responsible over almost everyone. He really should've expected it.

Daphne doesn't talk again. He thinks that maybe she's left, until eventually the sound of someone standing up with a sigh and a chair pushing over to the wall marks her actual exit. "Get better Puck," she says softly, the words accompanied by the creak of the door opening.

" _Please_."

And then she's gone, and Puck is left alone once more with the undeniable urge to get out of the bed and talk some sense into Sabrina.

Henry visits him once too, which is nice because he talks about their progress in snatching the remains of the Scarlet Hand, especially the new Master. There aren't really any new leads, but Puck can tell by the firmness in his voice that Henry's trying, _really_ trying.

There's another visitor too, one that comes in every day – usually more than once – and just sits silently beside his bed, like they're holding vigil. It's a bit unnerving, judging by the fact that Puck doesn't even know who this person is, let alone why they're sitting for hours at a time by his bedside and not saying so much as a word.

Puck knows he's attractive but honestly, with the breathing tube up his mouth and the very flattering hospital gown he must be wearing and the various wires sticking out of him, whoever's sitting here wasting their time staring at him must have a really weird taste in men.

He starts to think up ways to fight off the unwelcome visitor from hell if he happens to wake up at the same exact moment that the person tries to kill him. Unlikely, yes, but he's bored enough to waste away hours on it. Until one day that, during the person's uncomfortable time at his side – which Puck just has to sit there and endure because it's not like he can ask the mystery stalker to leave – the door opens slowly and he hears Veronica's annoyed sigh.

"Sabrina, how many times am I gonna get reports that you're back in here when you _should_ be in your own room?"

Oh, so it's Sabrina. The revelation makes Puck suddenly very giddy, because, well, _Sabrina_ and, well, _no psychopath_. It also means he doesn't have to worry about fighting her off anymore (although he keeps the knowledge stored away – who knows when that'll be useful).

"Oh please, I'm just sitting here. It's not like I'm doing anything strenuous."

He can pretty much hear Veronica's eye roll. "Don't oh please me. Even if you aren't hurting yourself, it would be smart if you were getting as much sleep as possible. In your _own room_."

Puck wants to nod in agreement. He loves the company – and wait, working backwards, that means Sabrina's been to visit him at least nine times since he woke up, and that's only what he's been conscious for (well, at least, half-conscious) – but he'd really prefer it if she just focused on getting herself better rather than mourning over him. Honestly, he _did_ throw himself on her for a reason, and it wasn't so that she could sit there moping around and getting herself sick.

"Everyone else gets to visit him – I should too. Besides, I'm not even in a wheelchair anymore. I'm _improving_."

Which explains the absence of that unmistakable squeaking noise from the first day.

"Sabrina, please, just this once-"

"No."

And Puck's heard that tone enough to know that yeah, she's not going anywhere. It would make him happy, her refusal to leave his side ( _her refusal to leave his side, wow_ ) if he wasn't so worried.

Veronica lets out this long breath full of probably more exasperation than is necessary. She's no doubt doing that thing where she pinches the bridge of her nose too, a favorite I'm-stressed-out-a-lot-right-now look of hers. But in the end, she gives in.

"Alright. But if you're going to sit there all day, at least talk to him."

"Talk to him?"

"Yeah, you know, about anything."

Sabrina snorts. "That's stupid."

No, it's not. It's really not. He misses the sound of her voice, and the blue of her eyes and that smirking angle of her lips and the way her blonde hair does this wave thing and-

Ok, deep breath (and yeah, it's just a figure of speech, although whatever the breathing tube is attached to does make a whooshing noise in that moment with an artificial breath, which Puck finds is kinda ironic).

"He might be able to hear you," Veronica says softly, sincerely.

"I doubt it," Sabrina scoffs.

Puck wants to sit up and strangle her because yeah, he _can_ hear her. He can hear both of them and he'd appreciate it if they kept up the talking, thank you very much. Hearing only his own voice in his head is bound to drive him insane one of these days.

"It's worth a try," Veronica says. Then, by the tell-tale click of heels and the closing of the door, Puck assumes she's left.

Yeah, it is worth a fucking try. He hopes Sabrina thinks so too, but she doesn't say anything else, and soon enough, he hears her standing up too. He wants to ask her to stay, even though if he's remembering right, this is her second visit today. The world seems to hate him though, so instead the words in his head remain there – in his head, where no one can hear them. Sabrina opens the door and it closes behind her and the room is silent once more.

*.*.*

Puck's grown rather fond of one of his nurses, actually. He doesn't know the man's name or anything, but recognizes his voice every day, stating the time and date before he gets started on anything else. It's a welcome relief, because Puck knows his sleeping pattern – and yeah, the whole sleeping in a coma thing is weird, and also mostly fueled by the sedatives he knows are being pumped into him – is fucked up and it's not like he can see if the sun is out. Knowing what day it is is probably the only anchor to anything solid that he really has.

Of course, as nice as it is, it's also insanely frustrating. Each day Puck wakes up thinking this'll be it, this'll be the day I push hard enough and wake up. And he tries, holy fuck does he try, to the point where he's screaming in his head and wants to cry from frustration but the tears never come, and neither does any actual screaming, and he's stuck in his worthless body as he tries to claw his way back to reality. Each day is a wasted opportunity, is a step away from his life, from the hope that he won't be like this forever (because he won't, right?).

Puck's fucked up lots of things, and he doesn't want to fuck this up too. But the let down every day he doesn't find the strength to just twitch his finger is beginning to drain him. And, judging by the nurse's polite "Good morning Mr. Goodfellow, it is 9:47 am, June 4th," it's been exactly a week since he and Sabrina raided that base and got blown to shit.

A week of his life he'll never get back. It sucks, actually, thinking of it that way.

So yeah, he's not exactly in a great mood when the door opens that afternoon and the soft sound of padding feet makes its way to his bedside. He thinks for a second it's the mystery stalker (yeah, he's still not entirely sure that person doesn't exist, because that was a lot of visiting for just Sabrina and sure, he's a little bit paranoid), but when the person pulls up a chair and makes this little sniffing noise, he can tell – that's Sabrina alright.

He finds himself warming up to her presence as she scoots the chair closer, and forgets about the shitty fact of _it's been a fucking week_ , not really by his own choice, just because there're more important things to focus on – like, yeah, Sabrina.

At first, it's just the silence, like usual. Puck doesn't mind it, but he really wishes-

"Well, um, hey Puck."

Puck starts – well, mentally at least – because Sabrina's talking. Sabrina's actually talking. To him.

"How's it going? Well no, that's a stupid question. I mean, you're, well, you know…"

The chair scratches against the floor, like she's shuffling around in it, and Puck really can't believe it. Sabrina. Stuttering. Unsure of herself. He's known her for five years now, and not once has she not known exactly what she wanted to say, not been confident and eloquent and firm in everything she did.

"I, um, they finally let me out of my room without yelling at me today. Big improvement." She takes in a short breath, like this is the hardest thing she's ever done. "I know I'll tell you again when you wake up-"

He is very thankful for the use of the word when, because the doctors really prefer if and it's not the most reassuring thing in the world.

"-but thanks. For saving my life. I would be in the same boat if it weren't for you. And that, um, that means a lot. It was a shit-headed move, of course, I mean, your life _does_ matter too, you know. And I'd honestly prefer it if you, uh, saved yourself before me. Thanks."

Puck mentally rolls his eyes. She has no idea, sometimes.

"So, well, I hope your sleep is going well. Not sleep, I guess, but um… coma thing."

She trails off then, and Puck's scared she's going to leave, going to stop talking, and he's going to be alone again in this pathetic hospital room being ridiculous enough to try and imagine her voice in his head because yeah, it's that bad. But then she speaks up again, voice a bit stronger, although it sounds forced.

"I'm sure Dad's already told you, but we're trying to track down other Scarlet Hand bases. He thinks he's got a lead somewhere in Europe, which is bad because it means they've already spread past America, but good because it means a shot at getting the Master. Hopefully that happens soon, because whoever it is needs to pay for this… for you being… for your…"

Puck wants her to continue, waits for her to continue, but then she's letting out this short, angry breath and there's the harsh sound of the chair skidding back against the wall and Puck swears his heartbeat has to accelerate at least _somewhat_ , because no she can't leave he needs her to stay she needs to keep talking he misses her, _fuck_ he misses her.

"Pointless. This is fucking pointless," he hears her say with a derisive snort, and then she's all but running to the door. It swings open and slams shut and Puck feels the absence of Sabrina like a tangible weight in his lungs.

A little while later, Veronica and some doctors return, talking with their big medical words about removing another part of his skull – what the fucking fuck, _another_? Puck's gonna have a serious talk with Veronica after this is all over about boundaries and how taking parts out of someone's head is crossing all of them – and possibly putting some tube in his brain for a reason Puck can't really understand. I mean honestly, what justifies jamming anything into anyone's brain?

He would tell them just that, but figuring he's in a coma, it's painfully obvious he has no say in the matter. Either way, it's not too long later that he's aware of fumbling beside him and the needle in his elbow is taped down again and then something heavy is entering his bloodstream, something warm and fuzzy and he can feel himself drifting away with it and _shit_ , if this means some sort of surgery and this surgery involves either of the previously discussed things, Puck's gonna fucking hurt somebody.

As it is, he can't really do anything against it. He feels the liquid slowly shut down whatever part of his brain is still working and the last thing he thinks about is Sabrina. It's cliché in a way that should have Puck gagging. Instead, it just makes him sad. Sad because he feels like he needs her, sad because he feels like a coward for never telling her this, sad because if this past week has shown him anything it's that he might never be able to.

Puck's lived for four thousand years. He's never been one who felt pressed for time, who felt like he would die with any regrets, because for all of his life, death was something so unforeseeable that it almost seemed unreal. Now, it's different. Now, he's not so sure.

And it's a fucking scary feeling.

* * *

 **and there it is, chapter two! really not sure how this one compares to my first one, because part of me isn't sure that it's as good…**

 **but i guess that's just writer's paranoia setting in.**

 **anywho, i will be back next week for chapter three! and thanks again for the lovely reviews, seriously, they help me so much motivation-wise. like, this chapter wouldn't be here if it wasn't for them. so for all those that reviewed, know that you're the reason this is posted!**

 **(which may or may not be a good thing)**

 **ok, quinn out.**

 **-quinn the finn**


	3. Reading (gag)

**hello again world of fanfiction!**

 ***hides in fear of being murdered because of the already broken promise of consistent updating***

 **ok, but listen. I know it's been a full month (wow that happened) since I last updated but prepare yourself for my actually legitimate reasoning.**

 **so, my first week of not posting was because of the last-minute vacation my parents surprised me and my friends with – a week-long trip to the beach with anniepear and cLeoo and a few of our not writer friends (because yes, we have those too). and while at said beach, I happened upon a bit of a dilemma. see, I made the mistake of bringing my laptop… inside of my duffel bag. which I sort of forgot I did, so everytime I through down my duffel bag my laptop was basically being thrown against the floor.**

 **and yeah, I think you all know where this is going. basically my laptop, the keeper of all of my finished fics and unfinished fics and pictures and life, essentially, broke.**

 **yeah, what a great thing to happen during the summer, am I right?**

 **luckily, since I use a laptop for most of my schoolwork, my parents got me a new one a week after the vacation was over, and I've been spending the rest of my time trying to rewrite all of the things I had stored up on my old laptop – which was by no means an easy task.**

 **so yeah, I'm pretty irritated with myself at the moment, but I've written a rough draft of each of the chapters of this particular story and will be editing like a maniac each week to try and get them where they need to be to be posted.**

 **also, my new posting day will be on either Sunday or Saturday, because chances are I'll forget to post on the weekdays because of sCHOOL UGH.**

 **ok, now to respond to reviews (this is the longest author's note ever I think) (also I'm not going to respond to reviews with "Guest" as the name anymore just because there're more than one Guest review sometimes and it gets confusing so yeah)**

 _..._

 **JudgmentalPraise: as you so eloquently put it in your review, HOLY MOTHER OF COWS. I am exaggerating zero percent when I say this, this review made my entire week. I literally read it like three times and then debated PM'ing you to tell you how much I loved you before deciding I would just express my love in this chapter. so here it is: I LOVE YOU. and yeah, I thought about the whole swearing Puck thing before posting the first chapter, but as someone who sort of swears a lot (at least, in my head), all the cursing just sort of came out naturally while writing Puck's internal thoughts and I figured I might as well keep it that way. and I'm so glad you like the pucakbrina cheesiness of this story, which I tried to make work as much as possible, and the humor too, which I'm trying to incorporate as much as I can because this is PUCK we're talking about – surely his mind is a funny place. and I should be honored? trust me, this is the longest response to a review I'll probably ever write – you should be honored my friend!**

 **Amy Grimm: OH MY GOSH I AM SO HAPPY I UPDATED ON YOUR BIRTHDAY AND IT MADE YOU THAT HAPPY THAT WORKED OUT SO PERFECTLY! I hope you have a wonderful year as a twelve year old (and hope I didn't make your mom think you're insane).**

 **OakeX: oh my gosh I really hope you actually did that while reading this because that's sort of super hilarious – unless you, like, broke your fist because you slammed that table too hard. might want to watch out for that… and as soon as I get the time, I promise I'll PM you, or get either cLeoo or anniepear too. trust me, we're not as good as you think, but we'd love to talk and give advice if that's what you want!**

 **Annie Carter: thanks for pointing out the whole "I" thing – I actually noticed that while writing but you never hear people say, "he means", so I didn't know what to do about it. now I do know – I'll be changing it to honestly as soon as possible!**

 **Lovetheday: OH MY GOSH you're melting into my story?! that is simultaneously the most confusing and kind thing someone has ever told me – and I sure do hope it's writer's paranoia. I'll just have to take your word for it**

 **DelusionalApple: lol that is not tmi at all, it's actually super hilarious oh my gosh. and please, you're beautiful and awesome and your self-esteem should be through the roof, friend. thanks for the super duper nice review!**

 **GriffinGirl8655: YOU'RE NICE GIRL! no, no, YOU're really really really fantastic!**

 **HappyHippiHippo: sorry I couldn't update sooner, but hey, it's here now!**

 **hallietucker: ooh, sorry about not updating quicker, but like I said, LAPTOP! and I promise you I will be updating a lot sooner now that I've got a laptop again (hoorah!). and thanks so much for your love – I've been trying my hardest to keep both Puck and Sabrina in character, but still being able to show that they've obviously grown since the end of the books. I'm glad it seems to be working!**

 **shouldercookie: meh, not a fast update this time, sorry, but I'm glad you like the story!**

 **komaeda: DON'T DIE JESUS CHRIST – well, at least you're dying in a good way, am I right?**

 _..._

 **and now, let it begin. my re-written third chapter that wouldn't have to have been re-written if I wasn't such a moron. *face palm***

 **disclaimer: I don't own sisters grimm, obviously.**

* * *

 **Chapter 3: Reading (gag)**

Puck wakes up – well not _really_ wakes up, but you get the point – to the sound of his annoyingly constant heart monitor beeping away (yeah, he's alive, we get it) and someone talking. It doesn't seem all too important, and those drugs he felt weighing down his system yesterday still seem to be floating around, so he's considering just drifting back to sleep when he recognizes the voice as Sabrina's.

And mentally slaps himself awake.

"-the surgery go well?"

So he was right about the surgery bit. Great.

"As well as we could hope, with no real complications. The window in his skull provides a bit more room for the swelling, and we drained as much cerebral spinal fluid as we could, so the pressure's relieved a bit."

That's Veronica, which means yeah, she willingly subjected him to the aforementioned "skull windows" and "cerebral fluid draining." She better get him a fucking amazing present for Christmas this year, or he's never letting this one go.

"But?" Sabrina says after a few moments, because yeah, Puck can hear the very evident 'but' in there too, what with the almost guilty way Veronica's talking.

"But none of the scans or monitor readings show major improvement of any kind."

"Meaning?" Sabrina asks after another pause.

Veronica lets out this dramatically long breath and Puck can hear her shuffling papers around. "Meaning for the time being, Puck's going to be like this."

He'd rather scrape a cheese grader down his face than be like _this_ for any longer, actually. Puck would prefer it if he could make that known too, then maybe people would stop sucking parts of his brain out and start doing things that actually helped – like leaving his skull and everything in it alone.

"How long is _the time being_?" Sabrina asks bitingly, as if it's Veronica's fault he's like this in the first place. He's been on the end of that tone before. He doesn't have to try very hard to imagine Veronica's wince.

"It's hard to say," she says carefully. "Coma's are… weird. He could wake up tomorrow – it wouldn't be realistic with the pressure still in his brain – but he could. Or he could wake up a month from now. Or…"

"Or he could never wake up again," Sabrina all but whispers. Puck really preferred it when she was still using the whole "when you wake up" vocabulary. No need to talk about him like he's already being lowered into the ground, thanks.

"Yes, that's a possibility. But as long as he's like this, there's still hope. And bear in mind that it's only been eight days. He's got plenty of time to be in this coma and for it to still be considered normal."

"Normal? _Really_? Like anything in this entire situation is _normal_ ," Sabrina snaps.

"Sabrina, we're doing all we can. Getting mad won't help at all."

"Oh so what, I'm just supposed to sit in my bed and pretend like nothing happened and be my usual cheery self while Puck is over here in a _fucking coma_?"

It's not one of the most pleasant conversations Puck's had to sit through, but there seems to be something substantial about the fact that Sabrina's getting this worked up over him. Puck doesn't want to read into it, because if he does he'll come to the conclusion that he actually matters to her, and then he'll get himself all worked up and excited only for the inevitable letdown of, _wait, you thought I_ liked _you_?

And yeah, it's inevitable. Puck's a lot of things, and self-pitying tends to be one of them.

"You know that's not what I meant, I'm just saying-"

"And _I'm_ just saying that maybe you should stop making excuses and find a way to actually help him!"

"It doesn't work like that, Sabrina! We're _doctors_ , not miracle-workers!"

"I'm starting to doubt you're either, actually!"

"Listen up young lady, the second you-"

"No, you know what, I'm done. It's time for my daily checkup anyway, and I'd _hate_ to miss it."

Sabrina storms off with all the grace of any furious teenager – needless to say, it's a lot of stomping and door slamming and then Veronica is muttering something under her breath that Puck doesn't quite catch. She stays in there for a while longer, not talking but just moving around and messing with some of the monitors, before she too leaves. Puck sort of wishes he had just gone back to sleep, because the conversation leaves a sick feeling in his stomach.

He knows Sabrina, and he knows she has a short temper, but he also knows she and her mom usually get along really well. The fact that they're not, well… it says a lot about his condition, he thinks. It says a lot about how serious this entire thing is, because Sabrina doesn't yell at her mom over nothing.

The sick feeling in his stomach doesn't pass, and the desire to just sink back into the steadiness of sleep doesn't either, even though it seems there's no chance of that now. He lies there, thinking about too much and not being able to do anything about it.

Eventually some of his doctors come in (he's beginning to recognize their voices, which is good because it means he'll have a better grasp for what's going on but bad because it shows how long he's been like this) and talk a bit about stabilizing his nutrient intake – turns out he's been "eating" through a tube needled into one of his veins, which sounds all fine and dandy except for the fact that he wants nothing more than to stuff a whole pizza in his mouth – before they begin speculating about all of his various problems. It's all boring doctor stuff, although Puck doesn't mind it too much because voices are a nice contrast from the sterile sound of beeping that fills the room all day.

When they leave, he actually finds he misses the sound of their talking a bit.

So when the door creaks open later that day, he all but jumps up (figurative – he doesn't all but do _anything_ , actually) in excitement. His internal monologue can only keep him busy for so long.

Of course, the excitement only grows from there because that's right, it's Sabrina. He doesn't know this at first, until she coughs lightly and it's not at all pathetic that he can recognize her by that, right?

She pulls up the customary chair and no doubt sits down in it, and then it's back to silence. Don't get Puck wrong, he's totally fine with the knowledge that Sabrina's actually sitting by him, but he can't help but feel like it's a tremendous step backwards. She was talking to him just, what, a day ago? It makes the whole quiet routine feel almost agonizing.

In all honesty, he'd prefer the screaming over this. Because if the silence is a reminder of one thing, it's all of the unsaid stuff he has jumbled around in his ridiculously pathetic brain.

The feeling is palpable and even if Puck wanted to break it, he can't. The visit leaves him feeling more distressed than is probably good for him – he really needs to figure that out, actually. Sabrina's hand brushes his for a brief second as she's leaving, and he's sure his skin is burning from her touch. The rest of the day passes by pretty uneventfully, and that surgery must've really worn him out, because he's drifting back into what he supposes you could call slumber before he even realizes it.

*.*.*

It's around the middle of the next day (which he knows thanks to his favorite nurse) when the door opens again. He expects it to be Daphne – he hasn't been awake for any of her visits since the surgery and figures she'll pop in sooner or later – or maybe even Henry with some more news on the progress with the Scarlet Hand. Or, even more likely, Sabrina and her very frequent, very quiet visits. What he doesn't expect is the unmistakable voice of his brother.

"Hey big brother."

Puck hasn't been Mustardseed's big brother for a while. Not only is Mustardseed painfully more responsible than him, but he also has this calm kindness and sharp logic – traits that his parents apparently forgot to pass onto Puck when he was still in the womb and whatnot. To Everafters, they are basically twins, what with the miniscule difference of only two years between them, but everyone knows if you're talking _older_ , Mustardseed's personality wins by a longshot.

"Looks like you've got yourself into a bit of a jam," Mustardseed says, and it's been way too long since Puck's heard that warm, gentle voice and something deep inside of him aches. He misses his brother. He misses his mom. He – yes, he'll admit it – even misses his dad.

He misses everyone.

"Sabrina called me and told me what happened. I guess I should've known that if you would get hurt, it would be protecting her, you hopeless moron."

Puck would be smirking if he could, because yeah, he is a hopeless moron and yeah, the way Mustardseed says it is very matter-of-fact and fond and Puck may not be one to consider himself overly-sensitive, but all he wants to do in that moment is stand up and hug his brother.

"Anyway, I came to see you. Mom couldn't come, because someone's got to watch over Faerie, but she should be visiting soon." He pauses, and the soft air of the room seems to shift. "She's awfully worried, you know. We both are."

Mustardseed doesn't sit down, choosing instead to lean down and squeeze Puck's shoulder. "Puck, we can't lose you. We just lost Dad, and we can't-"

He takes a shaky breath, and it's like shards of glass are slowly stabbing themselves into Puck's heart. Mustardseed should never sound like this, should never sound unhappy or shaken or any realm of emotion between the two.

"I know you'll get better though. I know it. Because if there's anything you are, it's stubborn, and there's no way you're gonna leave us this easily."

Mustardseed's optimism finds a way to sound uplifting instead of naïve. Puck still doesn't know if he believes it though, because he's pretty sure willpower alone won't save him.

"Besides, I can't believe that you're ready to leave that Grimm girl quite yet."

His voice is light again, teasing, and if Puck appreciates anything, it's the way he talks to him like he's a person and not a corpse. The obvious attempt at staying as positive as possible. It warms some part of Puck, even if he can't convince himself to think the same way.

"But moving on," Mustardseed begins, and then he's just talking. The conversation (if you can call someone basically talking to themselves a conversation) stays upbeat and light, and even if Puck can't respond, he enjoys every second of listening to his brother. It feels like a long while later that Mustardseed gets some call on his phone and promises to visit Puck again before walking out with his well-wishes trailing behind him. The visit leaves Puck content in a way that he probably shouldn't be while in a coma.

Of course, the second he's feeling actually good is the second the doctors come in and decide that a nice tube cleaning is in order, just to top off his day. Puck honestly can't say he's surprised. Honestly. He swears that if he gets out of this he'll give up his snarky attitude. Maybe even work on balancing out his insult to compliment ratio. He figures pleasing the universe is the only way to go if he expects to stay coma-free for the rest of his life.

*.*.*

The day is drawing to a close – another wasted attempt at getting out of this fucking coma, because yeah, that's pretty much the only way he can look at this whole thing at the moment – and Puck thinks that if he could move, he'd probably be banging his head against the wall right about now. Alas, he can't, so he settles for thinking up the best one-liners to drop as soon as he does wake up.

Emphasis on does.

He's pretty sure announcing his return to reality by saying he needs to pee would be pretty golden, but before he can run the scenario in his head, something he's been doing a lot of lately because he's discovered that his brain – as fucked up as it seems to be – can run ideas like a movie, the door is cracking open. He's annoyed for about a second, because he was really looking forward to thinking through the reaction to that particular quip, but then he remembers that door opening means company means not being so pathetic as to entertain himself with stupid one-liners in his spare time. He already has a hunch as to who it is, and he's never letting anyone call him stupid again because just as he predicted, he's right.

Sabrina walks in with a sniff and pulls up her customary chair. He settles in for a long while of complete silence, but as soon as he thinks he knows how these little visits are gonna work, she throws another curveball up his ass.

"Hey, Puck."

Puck would probably be smiling like some giddy two year old if he could, simply because the whole talking thing is back on and fuck him if it feels like Christmas come early.

"Sorry about fighting in here yesterday. That was stupid. But sometimes my mom can just be so _annoying_ with her fancy doctor words and her inability to take the blame for anything and her way of tip-toeing around problems when she's around me and-"

She lets out a long, irritated sigh, the sound of skin on skin one that Puck assumes is coming from her rubbing her face, a favorite I'm-mad-but-don't-feel-like-talking-about-it move of hers.

"Sorry, you probably could care less about my relationship with my mom."

And Puck never thought such a thing would interest him either, but when the words happen to be coming out of Sabrina's mouth, he finds he's totally up to listen to her rant for the next few hours. Which could possibly be a sign of just how far he's fallen. At the same time, he feels like it's a giant leap forward, simply because sound is actually coming out of her mouth again.

"Anyway, I didn't come here to complain, actually. I came here to, well, read."

And the minute Puck thinks she's gonna continue the whole talking to him thing, she decides she's gonna pop out one of her little books and ignore him the entire time. Puck knew he hated reading for a reason.

"To you."

Oh. Well that's… new.

"And before you start complaining-" she catches herself for a moment, no doubt because she's remembering he can't really complain, or do anything for that matter. But she does a wonderful job of going on smoothly like nothing happened. "-let me explain. See, I was talking to my mom and she said studies point to the belief that most coma patients are completely unable to hear or perceive any information from the things around them while in their coma."

 _Well, I'm not most coma patients_ , Puck thinks jauntily. Maybe his first words waking up will be disapproving whatever scientist came up with that shit theory.

"But she also said no one's a hundred percent sure, and I imagine if you can hear in there you're getting pretty bored right about now."

He thinks, not for the first time, that maybe old Canis slipping Sabrina's name into the Book of Everafter gave her some sort of mind-reading ability. Or maybe, even in a coma, Puck's still not too good at hiding how he feels.

"So I came up with the brilliant idea of reading to you. And since I know you hate all books and knowledge, I decided to read a little something special."

Puck hates the feeling of being excited about even listening to a book, but he honestly can't help it. Sabrina's talking, sounding like her usual confident self, as if nothing's wrong, as if he's ok again. He doesn't know what happened in between this visit and her last, but he finds himself thanking whoever controls sudden flips of emotion for it.

"So, drumroll please," she says, and Puck thinks she's gonna wince at the whole 'oh yeah his body is useless he can't drumroll' thing, but instead she snorts and mutters, "some drumroll-er you are," and he thinks that maybe this is what'll bring him back, the laughter bubbling inside him that needs a way to get out.

"I will be reading you," she hits some other surface to make the sound of a drumroll, because Puck's inadequate, as usual, "my diary."

And at first Puck can feel some inward part of him blanch because diary? Like, diary as in most inward, personal feelings and secrets and things Puck's not sure he's ready to here, especially if they're about _liking boys_ , particularly boys that aren't him. Then Puck remembers that the Grimm family does that weird diary thing where they write out all of the magical things that happen to them, where they record their lives as useful information for their descendants.

And oh. He's ok with that. I mean, out of all books, one written by Sabrina about their adventures as kids can't honestly be _that_ bad. As a matter of fact, he feels like maybe it'll even be good.

"I thought you'd be ok with this choice," Sabrina says, and Puck can hear the flipping of pages that means she's opening up the book. "I mean, _you're_ in it, and I assumed your ego would love that. And it should be like a trip down memory lane for both of us. And I even mention some of your pranks, so you can witness your genius from the mind of the victim, which I'm kind of hoping will make you reconsider next time you go to put food coloring in my new shampoo."

Oh, that was a good one. Her hair was bright green for _weeks_. They wouldn't let her go on any missions for fear that the color would be too noticeable. And all of the punches to the ribs he got were totally worth it.

"I honestly wanted to kill you after that one," she mutters under her breath, but there's a lightness to her tone that lets Puck know she's joking around, at least slightly. He wishes he could see the small smirk that usual accompanies such a voice. Instead, he tries to feel satisfied with what he's got. It's not that hard, in the end.

"Ok, well, here goes nothing, I guess," she says, and she lets out this long breath, like she's standing at the edge of some cliff, bracing herself for the plunge. He would feel the same way, probably, but he's too busy being ridiculously happy about the entire thing.

" _Before I say anything else, let me make one thing clear – Ferryport Landing is not your average New York city._ "

And she continues like that for the next hour, interjecting her own comments every few sentences about things she didn't contain in her diary, and even if Puck doesn't make an appearance before the hour's up, hearing the story told again, hearing the behind the scenes stuff he never knew happened before he met the two… well, he can't pretend he doesn't enjoy it. He finds himself holding on to her every word, and the drop of disappointment in his stomach when he hears the book close is not one he expected.

Especially when it came from _a book closing_. He's growing soft, he thinks bitterly. As soon as he's out of this little predicament, he's going to work on his tough exterior and inner stupidity. Maybe dye his wings black or something. He can't be seen as a pansy after thousands of years sealing his reputation.

"Ok, well, it's getting late and I actually have a life, as crazy as that may seem considering I'm still living in this stupid hospital wing."

He hears her stand up and push the chair back, and then she's at his side again. "I guess I'll see you later then, fairy-boy. Maybe next time you can actually do something other than just lying there – I mean, just between you and me, you sort of make for a terrible audience."

It wouldn't be Sabrina if she didn't end with an insult, but it's spoken with a fondness that Puck doesn't really hear that often. She's usually all tough-as-nails around him, emotion covered behind a fine layer of sarcasm and glaring, and even if she still does make time to slip in the occasional snarky comment (Puck would be disappointed if she didn't), there's something soft in her voice that doesn't usually happen around him. He's heard it with Daphne, with BJ, with people she really cares about, and if he's going to jump to conclusions than he can say that maybe it means that she cares about him too.

But he's not going to jump to anything. He's going to be practical and patient and not let things such as Sabrina talking to him – _Sabrina. Talking. To. Him._ – get him all worked up, even if it is a bit too late for that.

She grabs his hand before she leaves, giving it a hard squeeze, and something flips inside of his stomach. He wishes he could squeeze back, but of course, when he tries nothing happens. As it is, he can't help but think that, all things considered, he really doesn't mind spending his coma this way. It's a stupid thought, but hey, Puck's never had a shortage of those, has he?

* * *

 **third chapter complete - be ready for my fourth chapter (hopefully) next weekend!**

 **-quinn the finn**


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